Feeling Like Falling Rain
by achillies-eel
Summary: Written for TMB. Prompt: Rain. So simple that would be, life as a rain drop. What peace, to have a life so straightforward, so clearly defined. If only such a thing were possible. If only life could really be that simple. One-shot.


_A/N: Written for The Muse Bunny. Prompt: Rain. Unbeta'ed and not very carefully gone over.  
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_Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural. _

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**Feeling Like Falling Rain**  
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_Drip. Splatter. Drip. Drip._

Eyes shoot open, heaving gasps escaping tightly clenched teeth. The details of the nightmare fade, but the overall horror remains. Eyes, not his own, filled with pain, terror, anger... Black smoke, endless showers of putrid, black smoke... And the screams; always the screams.

There used to be a time when he could sleep; a time when, at most, a creature of the dark would invade his dreams, frightening, but bearable. Now, however... dreams, nightmares, memories - all blur into one.

They said there is no rest for the wicked, but he didn't believe them... until now.

A shaky hand reaches up to brush aside low hanging bangs, drenched with sweat. There's no use staying in bed. At this rate, be won't fall asleep again until sunrise, and then what? Wake up his brother? Let him in on the fact that he wakes up every night, choking on his screams, hiding his terror? Right. _Sure._

A weary glance to the motel window shows a pitter-patter of little droplets of water hitting the glass, creating a peaceful staccato of sound. Going outside sounds really good right now. Maybe the rain will wash away the dream - help clear his head.

_Drip. Drop. Splash. Drip._

Clothes, put on carefully, quietly, and he is set to go. He briefly considers taking the car, but what would be the point? He wants to hear the steady sound of falling rain, not have the sound cut off by closed car doors.

Slipping carefully out and locking the door behind him, he strides quietly past the shut doors, comes to a stop inches before the end of the walkway. Rain splatters gently, silently, peaceful in the moonless night. A few drops hit his face, and he breathes deeply, already on the way to forgetting the reason he is here.

There's just something about standing out in the rain, in the middle of the night, with the temperature near freezing. It's like... it's like he feel's closer to God. Or something. Whatever it is, it's nice. Gentle. Soft. Thrilling. So many things.

He likes the water. Water, icy or hot, capable of washing away the worst things he's ever done. He likes to think of it as God's way of forgiving his many, many sins. Maybe he's just deluding himself - probably is. But it helps, and that's all that matters, right?

And when he's finished 'cleansing' himself... maybe it'll be enough. Maybe, for this one night, he'll actually be able to fall back to sleep. Maybe, just this once, he can sleep in peace, without interruption, the only sound he can hear the sound of liquid peace.

Maybe - if only for tonight - he can rest without thought for tomorrow.

So he takes one more step forward, out into the falling shower.

_Drip. Drip. Splash. Splatter._

He closes his eyes, imagines himself to be a drop of rain.

Falling down to Earth from so high up; not caring where he lands, not caring _if_ he lands. The only thing that matter is that he falls. Lands on something. And maybe, if he's lucky, he'll land on a poor, dried up flower, a bush or weed about to die of thirst. If he's lucky, perhaps he'll be able to help that plant, do something good in his short-lived life.

So simple that would be, life as a rain drop. What peace, to have a life so straightforward, so clearly defined. To live your life, however short, knowing your purpose in it, having no need to tumble about - lost, purposeless, afraid.

If only such a thing were possible. If only life could really be that simple.

_Splash, splatter, splash._

A hot shower is almost as good as rain - but not quite. It doesn't have the same healing quality that rain from the Heavens carry. It helps, though. Just a bit.

He's tempted to stay in there for hours - use up the hot water, let it clense his skin, his heart, his guilt... He wishes, like the water, he can just pour out all the things he's hidden, all the secrets he's kept, all the lies he's told. All the times he's let his brother down.

But, unfortunately, life isn't like water. If only it were; things would be so much easier. Things would be peaceful, everything and everyone would just go with the flow, and every mistake and sin could be washed away like a simple stain. If it were like water, he wouldn't have to fight quite this hard to find redemption.

They wouldn't have to risk their lives every day for people they don't know - will never know - and for no other reason than the fact that they can save. Why does he do it? He doesn't even know himself. He'll have to ask Dean that sometime. He'll know the answer. Then everything will be all good and well again, and he can go back to pretending everything is okay, peachy, just fine.

If only things were that simple. If only.

The water turns cold, and he turns it off. Pulling on a towel, he slips over to the window where he first discovered his saving grace.

_Drip. Drop. Drip._

He turns back to bed, freezing momentarily when his brother emits a muffled groan. A few seconds later and he is stretched across his bed, arms behind his head, face clouded in thought.

Tomorrow's another day - more pain, more nightmares, more people they won't quite be able to save. For now, however, he can rest in the knowledge that - for tonight - all the evils of life will be pushed away. That - for tonight - he can fall back to sleep, at peace, while listening to the steady sound of the falling rain.

So, for now, with liquid peace on his mind, he is going to push everything else away.

Dour thoughts can wait. There's always tomorrow.


End file.
